


Sleeping Together

by rosetwopointoh



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Mass Effect Holiday Cheer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3120674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosetwopointoh/pseuds/rosetwopointoh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For hellahalla over at Tumblr! Happy (slightly belated) holidays!</p><p>As requested: decidedly NSFW Shakarian smutfluff. (The best.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleeping Together

The Normandy was buzzing with barely restrained chaos as it headed towards the Cerberus headquarters, off in some far-flung system with a massive star. Out in the mess, Garrus heard James bantering with someone--Cortez, he thought--and sighed. He’d been tinkering with the Thanix for the past hour and had made no real progress; while even a fraction of a percent could make a difference, his heart wasn’t in it, and he knew it.

_I am such a bad turian._

His thoughts had been wandering, of course, towards Shepard. Last he’d saw her, she’d been furiously cleaning her armor, her weapons already meticulous, loaded with fresh heatsinks and neatly collapsed, awaiting attachment to her kit once she’d geared up. His gear was, as always, stacked and immaculate on his weapons table besides his beloved Widow. He didn’t really have anything to do, now; one of the negatives of being constantly prepared.

Shaking his head, he closed the weapons console and rolled his shoulders, feeling the right one click as his bones slid awkwardly against the cybernetics there. He headed out of the battery, greeting the rest of the crew as he made for the elevator. There was still only one real person who could settle the swirl of anxiety in his stomach, and he was willing to bet she was likely suffering the same as him.

 

Jane was resting her forehead against her mirror, arms braced against the sink, watching water droplets run down her bare skin, when she heard the door chime with Garrus’s code. His feet were quiet against the floor, but she heard him stop before going down the stairs. “In here, Garrus.”

The turian leaned against the doorframe, crossing one foot over the other, one mandible flickering in a smile. “If I knew you were up here showering all alone, I’d have given up on the Thanix a while ago.”

Jane snorted, weakly, and straightened; Garrus picked up the towel from the hook and offered it to her. “You alright?”

“Are you asking or are you _asking_?”

“The second one.” Automatically he wrapped an arm around her as she stepped close to him, letting his chin rest on top of her head.

She sighed. “No.”

“Mm.” He trailed his talons gently along her spine, satisfied when she exhaled slowly against his cowl. “Don’t suppose I could convince you to get some sleep? We still have a few hours to go.”

“Doubt it.”

“Hm. What about... _sleep_?”

She pulled far enough away to raise an eyebrow at him. After a long moment of staring at each other, Jane’s attempt to keep a straight face at the very... odd, possibly lecherous look on his features (his attempts at human expressions were quite entertaining, to say the least) failed and she leaned back against his cowl, giggling. His face shifted into smile, mandibles flickering just so.

Another long moment passed like that. “And?”

“Mm?”

“You didn’t give me an answer.”

“About what?”

“Sleep or... _sleep_?”

“Garrus, whatever you’re saying means the same thing to my translator.”

“They _have_ to make a translator that reads subvocals,” Garrus muttered, certain that she still had to have _some_ idea of what he was on about and was just letting him suffer. He set his hands on Jane’s shoulders and pushed her away, so she was standing up, not leaning against him. “Sleep, or--” and at this he bent, pressing his lips to hers, his hands sliding up to cradle her jaw and the base of her skull; his tongue flicked out to slide against her lip. Only when she started to melt beneath his kiss did he step back and finish-- “ _sleep.”_

“Oh. _Oh_. Garrus, it’s sleep _together_ , not just... sleep. But--” she squeaked as he nuzzled her jaw-- “yes.”

“Damn idioms,” he replied, adding a few choice words he was fairly sure her translator wouldn’t handle either (he _had_ to look into that), and kissed her again. This time she moved her hands to his waist and pulled his hips against hers as she started maneuvering them; he hummed in agreement and followed, sweeping the desk chair out of the way with one foot as they made it to her destination. Her towel fell all the way open when he freed one hand to help set her on her desk, largely forgotten, but definitely handy as the desk would have been _cold_ against her thighs.

Several thoroughly handsy, kiss-laden minutes later he nipped a trail down her body, the backs of his hands and talons brushing against her breasts, and she slid forward just far enough so she could prop a leg up over his cowl. Vaguely she noticed one of her ship models clattering to the desk, that her body’s first thrashing reply to Garrus’s lips dragged gently against her center knocked over a stack of datapads, but her ability to care, all but tapped out after being used to save a hundred--no, a thousand--places in the galaxy, evaporated entirely as his tongue curled around, worked over, slid home within her.

 

Garrus hadn’t ever really thought much about human women, before Jane. Still didn’t, really, since he was definitely a one-human turian. He’d spent his free time with turian women during his tours, with turians and asari while working for C-Sec--he’d guessed that human women would be rather like asari, except without the whole... _embracing eternity_ part.

He’d been quite thoroughly and rather pleasantly surprised, then, that Jane had been vocal, emphatic, demanding. Upon later reflection, he should have realized it _wasn’t_ surprising: that was just Jane, whether she was demanding the Council send her more ships, defending her crew (he supposed headbutting a krogan could be considered _emphatic_ , yes?) or hollering across a battlefield.

Even now, the stress she’d been under having done its very best to break her--start with six months of house arrest, add in a former sister-in-arms who’d questioned her existence doing it _again_ and then nearly dying, the loss of so many that meant so much--Mordin, Legion... she’d managed to make miracles with it. Vocal, emphatic, demanding miracles.

“Garrus?”

He blinked and glanced up, realizing he’d stopped, slightly embarrassed he’d been musing about all this with his face buried between his girlfriend’s legs. “Um.”

“You okay?”

He rocked back on his spurs and stood, one hand going to her red tresses, still damply clinging from her shower.

“Garrus, we don’t--”

“Jane, I love you.”

She blinked. “Garrus, I... I love you, too.”

“I know.” He rested his forehead against hers for a long moment. “Sorry. I just... I needed to tell you.” _To hear you tell me back, because you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me._ She nodded; she understood.

He scooped her up in his arms; she looped hers around his neck, and he carried them from the desk down to the bed, sprawling across it with her. She helped him with his clothes and shortly they were flush against each other, naked, tangled together in the awkward-but-perfect way they’d managed to figure out. Slow, thorough kisses and searching hands sent heat rolling through their veins again, breaths coming shorter, brief, tiny touches driving bolts of sensation home.

“Spirits, Jane,” he murmured, voice rough, subvocals loud enough he was sure she could hear them. She responded by nipping the thinner skin at his neck and grinding, gently, against the plates that were only just restraining him. He groaned; she chuckled and rocked harder, her teeth scraping against his jaw, tongue tracing the edge of his damaged mandible. She was rewarded as his cock slid out, thick, heavy, and already slick.

Garrus rolled her on to her back; she grabbed a pillow as he half-lifted her and she slid it under her hips, canting them at just the right angle for his--

“Oh, _fuck.”_ Garrus chuckled; he’d gone back to work between her legs, tongue and mouth and mandibles working at her clit and lips to encourage her body to soften, grow slick, relax. She was petite, his Jane, narrow in the hips despite the heavy muscling on her frame, and the reality of it was he was a turian and a bit... well endowed: she’d be sore without the attentions of his hands and mouth, first. No good, seeing as they’d be infiltrating the Cerberus headquarters in five-and-something hours, and--well, it wasn’t like he _minded_.

She was squirming as he drove her pleasure somewhat relentlessly, tongue insistent against her clit; a particularly high-pitched whine and a hand swatting at his fringe suggested he slow down, and so he did. Too much, apparently, as moments later she lifted a leg and propped it up over his cowl, opening her fully to his ministrations, and her hips rocked to the movements of his mouth.

“Oh, god, oh _fuck_ \--Garrus--”

“Hmm?”

She clutched the sheets and he smiled against her. When his voice against her skin had her writhing, he changed tactics, slowing down, letting her feel every movement against her sensitive skin, the tiny bundle of nerves, running the edges of his talons up the insides of her thighs, along her sides. He’d done research in the six months they were apart: that first night on the Normandy after Menae, she’d been _very_ pleasantly surprised indeed.

Jane was panting, keening now, her back arching. “Garrus-- _please--_ want you--”

“Want me to...” He felt the first flutterings of her body and resolved to bring her to climax; she was almost too far gone, anyway, and they had the time.

“Oh god, I’m gonna--Garrus-- _fuck!_ ” Her voice choked out as she went stiff, her muscles clenching in rhythm to his tongue, and it was only after he slowed and backed off that her breath released in a long, slow whine, her body quaking.

Jane was panting still as he pulled the blanket up over her and settled at her side, an arm thrown over her belly. His cock was throbbing, achingly hard as it always was after hearing her come like that, with her taste on his tongue.

“Garrus?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” She rolled her head over to look at him; her eyes were still a bit hazy.

“Waiting for you to wake up, princess.”

“This is _not_ the definition of sleep I agreed to.”

“Really?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Up.”

“Oh, I am.”

“I’m well aware of that. You do happen to be on the wrong side of my thigh, Garrus, dear.”

He grinned. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to rectify that, won’t we.”

“Yes, please. With all haste.”

“Haste?” He ran his hand up her belly, pausing to tease a peaked nipple.

“Goddamn it, Garrus, _fuck me already._ ” She was growing flushed, he noticed, a delightful pink which spread from her breasts up to her cheeks.

“What is a turian to do but follow orders? Aye aye, ma’am.”

“ _Bad_ turian,” she muttered. “Taking too fucking long.”

“Long and hard, would you say?”

“Ugh. Your humor is not apprecia-- _oh!”_ He’d rubbed a thumb over her still-sensitive clit.

“Any further orders, Commander?” Garrus settled himself between her legs again, leaning over her on one elbow, the other hand idly stroking himself.

“ _Now_.”

“Aye aye, ma’am,” he replied, grinning wickedly, and slid home.

 

The first thing Jane was aware of was the burst of sensation--a stretch, followed by sheer pleasure, nearly overwhelming. As always he gave her a moment; she shifted her hips, wrapped her legs around him, and sighed in contentment as he shifted into just the right place inside her, filled her completely.

“Yes,” he whispered against her neck, as he usually did. She ran her nails down his spine, focusing especially along the thinner skin at his waist, and he hissed at the sensation before beginning to move. They found their rhythm, gentle, and as the minutes passed they made love, foreheads touching, mouths moving against each other, little murmured sentiments in each other’s ears.

It wasn’t long, though, before need caught up with desire.

“Fuck.” Jane was panting, her hands running up and down Garrus’s skin and plates, looking for any spots to dig into. “Oh, god, you feel so _good_.”

“Mmm, Jane, you have no idea.” Garrus ran his lips along her collarbone to her shoulder, nibbling gently. “Spirits, yes.”

She rocked against him, meeting his thrusts, feeling him inside her, foreign but so right. “I’m not going to break, Garrus. Don’t hold back.”

“That’s a dangerous idea, you know.”

“I’m Commander Fucking Shepard, Vakarian. I kill Reapers _on foot_. Surely I can handle a big turian cock, don’t you think?”

Garrus nipped at the thick muscle between her neck and shoulder and sat up, his hands sliding down to hold her hips. “You want this, Shepard?”

“Fuck ye--- _yes!”_ His thumb had returned to her clit as he increased his pace, giving up on any pretense of slow and measured lovemaking; she let her legs fall from his waist, limp, and started to babble a long stream of words in various languages, most of which his translator didn’t catch, but all a variation on _oh god, fuck me please, yes, Garrus, fuck, so good._

He was in agreement, especially as she tightened around him. He groaned, his own slew of murmured expletives joining hers. “Jane--oh, _spirits,_ Jane--”

She reached up and pulled him down to her, lifting herself with her legs to keep his quick, sharp thrusts hitting home. “Fuck, Garrus, I’m gonna--please tell me you’re--close-- _fuck--”_

He kept one hand at her hip, his thumb still rubbing over the little bundle of nerves he knew she needed to tip over the edge into another climax. He was aching, needing her badly, and rather hoped she didn’t start in on the dirty talk because there was no _way_ he’d hold out for her if she did.

“Jane--yes, come for me--more? _fuck--_ ”

She tossed one leg even more tightly around his waist and pulled her hips flush to his, driving his cock even further into her, and the sudden burst of pleasure left her wailing as she came, clenching hard around him, and he kept thrusting, mindless now, only knowing he _needed_ her and finally his body spasmed and he spilled over, into her, shuddering.

Long minutes later, Jane sighed and cracked open an eye at Garrus, who had, predictably, fallen asleep.

 _“Sleep_ indeed,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against his.

 


End file.
